


But the Gesture is Ruined

by cypress_tree



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: 5+1, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sydney Shatterdome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 12:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3410693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cypress_tree/pseuds/cypress_tree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Hermann <i>tried</i> to be romantic, one time he succeeded without even meaning to.  A K-Sci romcom, basically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But the Gesture is Ruined

**Author's Note:**

> messing a little with canon by having newt and hermann working together in sydney before the events of the movie.
> 
> this was partially inspired by a post on [imagineyourotp:](http://imagineyourotp.tumblr.com/) "imagine person a gets person b some flowers. turns out b is allergic to those flowers."
> 
> special thanks to [patster223](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patster223/pseuds/patster223) for betaing for me!! and for coming up with the mixtape idea like way back in july or something—that's how long it took me to write this, ahaha.........

**One**

  

Newt steps out of his quarters one morning to find an honest-to-god CD-R on the mat outside his door. At first he’s confused, but when he picks it up, he finds that the CD is labelled in careful, precise, black-Sharpie cursive.

 

_to Newton_   
_from Hermann_   
_a “mix tape”_

 

Newt flips the disc over. There's no insert in the jewel case—no list of songs, no further information to explain its sudden appearance. Newt shrugs and slips the disc into his bag.

He stops at the mess hall for breakfast, grabbing a cup of coffee and an egg sandwich that looks delicious and portable. He walks into the lab, waves hello to Sydney’s three K-Sci interns, then finds Hermann hiding out by the computers.

“Morning,” Newt chirps.

“Good morning.” Hermann adjusts a few settings on his holodisplay. When Newt doesn’t make any move to go to his usual station, Hermann glances over at him.

“I found a fossil on my front step this morning,” Newt says. He holds up the CD with a grin. “Did you want me to carbon date this?”

Hermann gives an offended sigh.

“Kidding, kidding. But seriously, where did you even find a CD in the first place? You know kids these days just swap mixes online.”

“Well pardon me for not using the format you prefer. For those of us who dislike the degraded quality of streaming music—”

“Whoa, okay I get it—if you could have done it on vinyl, you would have.”

Hermann makes a face that means he doesn’t disagree, then turns his attention back to the holoscreen.

“So is there a reason why you decided to make me a mix CD out of nowhere or—?”

“It’s not _out of nowhere_. It’s been a week.”

“A week since…?”

“Since we— _surely_ you—” Hermann looks across the room, making sure the interns are all well out of earshot. “Since we began our relationship.”

Newt’s heart melts a little. He thinks back to last week and—yeah, it was definitely a week from today—Friday—when they first became a thing.

“Dude, you made me a one-week anniversary mix CD?”

“Well, that night, when we were talking—”

“ _Flirting_ , you mean?”

“You had expressed an interest in my musical tastes.”

Newt grins. “So you made me a mix of all the weird obscure bands you like?” He gives Hermann a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks, man. I wish I had thought to get you something, but I haven’t celebrated a one-week anniversary since middle school.”

Hermann pouts, so Newt kisses him again before sliding the CD into the computer in front of him.

“I’m really glad you came with us that night,” he says. “Even if you did refuse to dance, which kind of defeats the whole purpose of clubbing.”

“I only went for the beer.”

“Yeah, and to watch me dance, apparently, ‘cause every time I saw you, you were staring at me.”

Hermann frowns. “What are you doing over here, don’t you have dissections to oversee?”

“I’m still having breakfast. Can’t eat by the dissection table.” Newt takes a bite of his sandwich to prove his point.

When the CD’s tracklist loads, it’s completely foreign. Newt doesn’t recognize any song or artist titles, and even some of the genre labels sound a little weird. _Intelligent dance music? No wave? Avante-garde metal?_ No wonder Newt had no idea what Hermann was talking about last Friday. He double clicks the first track and leans back in his chair.

The song starts off with a soft screech that makes Newt grit his teeth. He glances over at Hermann, but Hermann is focused on his work, and hasn’t reacted. After about ten seconds, the screech ends, then there’s a rumble of percussion that sounds like it’s coming from a variety of surfaces. When the vocals kick in, they’re whispered in a low murmur that doesn’t sound like English, German, or any human language.

Newt takes a sip of coffee. “Wow, this is—” He’s cut off when the vocalist starts screaming.

Hermann shifts and for a moment, Newt thinks he’s going to say “oh, the download must have glitched, because it’s definitely not supposed to sound like _that_.” Unfortunately, he doesn’t. He just gets up from his chair and walks over to his desk as if nothing is wrong.

Newt looks over at the interns. Jordan is cringing a little. Alicia doesn’t seem to be reacting. Thuy is wearing earplugs, but then, she wears earplugs even when it’s Newt’s choice of music. Newt glances at the computer. The song is coming to an end. It dies off slowly and quietly, then the next song begins with a high-pitched wail in Swedish. Newt laughs.

“What is it?” Hermann asks, sitting back down next to him.

“Nothing, man, nothing. This is really, uh—interesting.”

Hermann narrows his eyes as if he can’t quite tell whether Newt is being genuine or not.

There are thirteen tracks total. Up next is a heavy metal song with a title in Elvish. Even Hermann’s taste in music is nerdy. Newt feels strangely endeared.

“Hey, I should make a mix for you too,” he says. “I mean, you kind of sneered when I listed my faves last week, but if I give you some b-sides, maybe—”

“That’s alright.” Hermann shakes his head. “I don’t particularly care for pop-punk.”

“Uh, okay, once the coffee kicks in, I’m going to remember you said that, and then I’m gonna fight you.”

“Yes, darling.”

It’s meant as a joke, but the endearment makes Newt’s heart flutter anyway. He looks at the computer. The whole mix is only 54 minutes long. Newt can wait it out. So far, both songs have sucked, but it doesn’t matter—it’s the thought that counts.

“This next one is my favorite,” Hermann murmurs. He flashes a soft smile in Newt’s direction.

The song opens with a high-pitched guitar riff accompanied by death growls. Newt hopes there’s still some Panadol in his desk drawer. 

\---

 

**Two**

 

Their first time together is everything Newt had been dreaming about for literal years. Hermann is gorgeous under all those layers, and once they both get over their nervousness, they’re smiling and laughing as much as they’re gasping and moaning.

Once they’re sated, it’s 11pm, and Hermann is looking up at the door as if he doesn’t know what to do.

“Stay,” Newt murmurs. He scoots closer and presses tired kisses to the hickey on Hermann’s neck.

“I can’t. I told you, I have that meeting—”

“You can leave from here.”

“But it’s early, I’d wake you.”

“I don’t care.”

Newt rests his head on Hermann’s chest and falls asleep slowly as Hermann combs gentle fingers through his hair.

 

\---

 

Hermann leaves the next morning after a sweet, lingering goodbye. When the door closes behind him, Newt breaks out into a goofy grin and curls in on himself, pulling Hermann’s pillow close. He falls back asleep under warm covers and doesn’t wake again for another two hours. When he finally leaves his quarters, he can’t keep the grin off his face. It feels like his whole body is light as a cloud.

The interns are already in the lab when Newt arrives. Hermann won’t be back until noon.

“There’s a present on your desk,” Thuy says with a smile.

“Is this another game of ‘guess which organ this sample is from?’ Because you guys haven’t stumped me yet, and I’m starting to feel bad for—” Newt stops dead in his tracks. The present isn’t a piece of kaiju—it’s a huge vase, filled with the most colorful and unusual flowers he’s ever seen. They’re bright blue and purple and pink, some speckled, others striped. They look like they were picked worlds away, deep in the heart of the rainforest.

“Oh my god,” Newt murmurs. He drops his bag to the ground.

“A delivery guy dropped them off ten minutes ago,” says Jordan. “He was freaking out—said the sender paid extra for express delivery, but the guy wasn’t used to delivering to the Shatterdome, so he got lost. I had to meet him by the fire exit.”

Newt’s not listening. He picks up a small sealed envelope nestled between two full blooms.

 

_Newt,_   
_I didn’t want to leave. I’ll make it up to you this weekend._   
_Hermann_

 

Newt's knees feel a little weak. “He’s a secret sweetheart,” he mutters. “I can’t believe this.” He plucks a bright blue blossom and tucks it behind his ear, then leans into the bouquet and takes a deep breath. The flowers smell honey-sweet. Warmth and affection curl in his chest.

“Who are they from?” Jordan asks. “Are they from Dr. Gottlieb?”

“You’re lucky he didn’t hear you say that, because— _atchoo!_ ” Newt sneezes. “He’d kill you. But just to satisfy your healthy scientific curiosity—yes.” He sneezes again. Okay, maybe that’s enough of breathing in pollen. He moves the vase to a corner of the desk. Just looking at the bouquet makes him happy. He never thought of Hermann as the type to buy flowers, but—

_Atchoo!_ Newt’s eyes are starting to feel a little itchy, so he rubs at one, but that only makes it worse.

“Oh shit,” he mutters.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Newt reaches for a tissue and blows his nose, but his sinuses aren’t happy. He sits down at his desk as the interns gossip amongst themselves. His phone vibrates in his pocket.

 

_received: 9:24_   
_I can't stop thinking about you_

 

The text is from Hermann. Newt bites his lip, torn somewhere between “my boyfriend is so cute” and “oh my god these flowers are killing me.”

 

_sent: 9:26_   
_THE FLOWERS ARE AWESOME UR THE BEST THANK U!!!!!_

 

_received: 9:30_   
_I’m glad you like them_

 

Newt’s eyes start to water—and not from emotion. He removes the flower from behind his ear and sticks it back in the bouquet with the others.

Newt has a few experiments to run, but he decides to hold off, since he’d probably just contaminate them. Instead, he opens his laptop to finish the report he started writing yesterday. He immediately sneezes onto his keyboard.

“Fuck! These fucking flowers!"

“I think you’re allergic,” says Alicia.

“Yeah, thanks for the diagnosis.”

The bouquet sits innocently in the corner of the desk. Newt glances around the lab, trying to figure out where else he could put it, but unfortunately, almost every flat surface is covered in junk. Newt gives a loud sniff and wipes his nose on his sleeve.

"We could put them in formaldehyde.”

Newt looks up at Thuy. _Genius_. She’s always been his favorite.

 

\---

 

Later that day, Hermann walks into the lab with a small, shy smile.

“Hey!” Newt shouts. He gives an enthusiastic wave.

Hermann’s smile turns bright. He glances quickly around the room, then stops short.

"What the hell have you done to my flowers?”

 ---

 

**Three**

 

Newt is the first to say “I love you.” It happens while they’re resting alone together on the lab couch. His head is on Hermann’s shoulder, and the words tumble from his mouth by accident. Hermann catches his breath. He tilts Newt’s face and kisses him over and over.

Hermann says it back the next day. Newt thinks it’s funny—like Hermann had to sleep on it for a night before deciding. He laughs and nuzzles into Hermann’s neck and pulls him close, even though they’re on Hermann’s doorstep in an open hallway.

“I think we should celebrate,” Hermann says.

“Hmm?”

“We’ve reached a new stage in our relationship. We should celebrate.”

Newt smiles. There’s a J-tech officer passing by in the hall. Hermann doesn’t usually like PDA, but the officer can see them holding each other, and Hermann doesn’t even flinch.

“That sounds cool,” Newt says. “What do you want to do?”

“Let’s go out to dinner someplace nice.” Hermann kisses Newt’s cheek, and Newt’s stomach does a little flip. “Somewhere where you’ll have to wear a suit.”

They make plans for Saturday.

 

\---

 

The restaurant that Hermann chooses is in the heart of downtown Sydney. It’s fancy and French, and the only reason they were able to get a reservation is because someone else had cancelled at the last minute.

“Have you been here before?” Newt whispers, as the the maître d checks Hermann’s name off a list. Hermann shakes his head.

They’re led to a secluded table in the far corner of the room. It’s lit by a soft lamp and candlelight, and looks like the perfect Hollywood setting for a dinner date. The maître d hands them both menus, then bows and hurries off to seat the next guests.

Newt looks around the room. “Wow, this place is fancy.”

“I thought it would be a nice change from take-out and chain restaurants.”

Newt shrugs. It’s fun to try something new, but he can’t help but feel a little out of place. He doesn’t like wearing suits, and his hair refused to be tamed before they left, so it’s sticking up at all different angles. A couple of people glanced at him on the way in, and gave disapproving frowns. Newt doesn’t feel rich enough to be here.

“How’s the menu?” he asks. Hermann is studying it appraisingly. He raises an eyebrow in a non-answer. “Does that mean good, or—”

“Open it up and see for yourself.”

Newt purses his lips. He looks down at the menu only to find that the whole thing is in French. “Okay…”

A waitress stops by to greet them and take their drink orders. Hermann asks for a glass of wine. Newt sticks with water. Once the waitress has left, Hermann leans across the table and pats Newt’s hand.

“I need your help.” He points to something on the appetizer list. “What does this say?”

“Uh, well _demi-douzaine_ is a half dozen. I have no idea what a _huître_ is.”

“I thought you spoke French?”

“Conversationally, yeah, but I don’t know gourmet food lingo. I could order us a burger and fries, but I doubt they have _that_ here.” It’s hard to keep the bitterness from his voice. Hermann frowns at it, then pulls his phone from his pocket and uses a translation app to answer the rest of his questions.

Newt feels stupid for being so uncomfortable. He scratches one unshaven cheek and toys with the hair at the back of his head. When the waitress returns, he ends up ordering the filet mignon, because that’s the only thing on the menu that he’s familiar with.

Hermann clears his throat. “You’re not wearing cuff links.”

“I don’t have any cuff links.”

“How do you own a suit and not own cuff links?”

“I lost one.”

Hermann sighs. Newt tenses up and is about to shout at him, but Hermann cuts him off before Newt can start.

“Listen to me—I don’t want us to be angry with each other. Not tonight. Now what’s wrong?”

Newt slumps in his bench. “Nothing, it’s—nothing. It was a good idea to go to dinner, but this place isn’t really my scene.”

“You don’t like the restaurant?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just—it's classy. And I'm not. I don’t know. I’ve never been to a place with this much silverware. I don’t even know what half of this is for. What the hell is this little fork thing?”

“That’s for the _huîtres_.” Newt looks at Hermann with surprise. “ _Oysters_ —I looked it up.”

Newt lowers his eyes and shifts awkwardly in his seat.

“I’m sorry,” Hermann murmurs. He takes Newt’s hand across the table. “I should have asked for your input when I chose the restaurant. I just thought it would be romantic to take you someplace nice.”

“You’re really into romance.”

“Perhaps a bit.”

Newt huffs a laugh and squeezes Hermann’s hand.

The waitress stops by their table to serve _une demi-douzaine d'huîtres_. They’re accompanied by a small dish of sauce that smells like wine and mint.

"You know, my dad used to take me to the beach to collect oysters," Newt says, eating one plain. "That’s the only way I ever got them. They’re kind of—you know, expensive."

Hermann smiles, gently. "Well, they don’t get any more fresh than that.”

“True. Sometimes we’d cook them right on the beach. Eat ‘em with our fingers, like _animals_.” Newt waggles his eyebrows. Hermann laughs.

When the entrees arrive, they’re both a little stunned. The portions are small and artfully arranged. Newt’s never been confused about how to start eating a steak, but then, he’s never seen one that he could eat in three easy bites.

“Would you like to go elsewhere for seconds?” Hermann asks. “I don’t believe this is enough to fill either of us.”

Newt shrugs. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Well, ever since you mentioned chips, I’ve been craving—”

“Yes. Totally, yes.” Hermann smiles, and Newt nudges his leg beneath the table. “Love you,” he says. Then, because he can’t resist— “You know they’re called _fries_ though, right?”

 ---

 

**Four**

 

Newt has been looking forward to their six-month anniversary. He knows Hermann has made plans, even though he refuses to tell Newt a thing.

“Mind your own business,” Hermann had said, batting Newt away when Newt caught him looking at ferry tickets online.

Newt is ready. He’s chosen the perfect gift, bought a new bottle of lube, and he’s done laundry, so all the shirts Hermann likes seeing him in are clean and smell fresh. The night before their anniversary, Hermann invites him over.

“I want to wake up together,” Hermann says. “I’m not wasting a moment of our day.”

Newt should have seen this coming. It’s only been six months, but considering this is the guy who made a celebratory mix-tape after a week, overkill should be expected.

When Newt wakes up the next morning, it’s to the feeling of Hermann’s lips on his bare shoulder. He yawns and stretches his legs, wrapped up in warm blankets.

“Happy anniversary,” Hermann murmurs. “We aren’t expected in the lab today. I’ve arranged everything for us.”

Newt runs a hand down Hermann’s side. “You got us time off? How’d you achieve that miracle?”

“I have my ways.” Hermann lifts himself up on his elbows and gazes down at Newt with sleepy, half-lidded eyes. He kisses Newt slowly, nipping at Newt’s bottom lip before pulling away.

“Mmm, are we gonna stay in bed all day?” Newt asks.

“We’ve done that before, it would hardly be novel.”

“Yeah, well I’m not opposed to doing it again.”

Hermann laughs. It looks good on him. Newt takes a moment to admire how beautiful he is—perfectly happy and content—a blush across his cheeks and a smile on his face. He has tiny crow’s feet by his eyes, but they only make him look more joyful. Newt puts a hand on the back of Hermann’s head and pulls him in closer—

A siren goes off. Newt pulls Hermann into the pillow by reflex.

“A kaiju?” he shouts. “A fucking kaiju? _Now?!_ ”

Hermann sits up. “God, not today, please not—”

 

_“Category 3 kaiju en route to Auckland, New Zealand. Codename: Hound. Striker Eureka to deploy immediately. All personnel to your stations”_

 

Newt stares at the ceiling in wake of the announcement.

“We have to go.” Hermann is already stumbling out of bed, pulling his clothes on as quickly as possible. “Newton, get up. We’ll be needed at LOCCENT.”

“We had plans,” Newt whines.

“I know, I—” Hermann pauses to close his eyes. He takes a deep breath before steeling himself and grabbing a clean shirt from the closet. “I know. But we’ll have to do it another time.”

 

\---

 

LOCCENT is full of activity as everyone works to prepare Striker Eureka for deployment. Hermann heads for the chief officer, Makinti Williams, who is seated at a computer, fingers flying over her keyboard.

“Dr. Geiszler!” a voice shouts. Newt turns to find that two of the interns are already here—Alicia is helping set up a video feed while Jordan waves Newt over.

“Goddammit,” Newt mutters. He gives one last wistful glance to Hermann before the video starts livestreaming. Any other day, this would be thrilling. Today? Not so much.

Hound was named for its dog-like snout and the fact that it walks on four legs. Newt studies its image, gathering what he can from the grainy livefeed and comparing Hound’s behavior to what he’s seen from previous attacks.

“Striker should aim for its underbelly,” he says. “The skin is thinner there—look at that glow.”

Getting Striker from the Sydney Shatterdome to the coast of New Zealand takes far longer than they’d hoped. Hound destroys the city of Auckland, and morale in LOCCENT falls low. It’s hours before the battle seems to be turning in their favor.

“Newton?”

Newt jumps. He turns from the video to find Hermann behind him.

“May I see you for a moment?”

They leave the crowded room and step out into an empty hallway. The air outside is much cooler, and feels good on Newt’s face. He takes what feels like the first deep breath he’s had since they got here.

“I wasn’t sure when we would get a moment to ourselves,” says Hermann. “So I’m taking one now. I’m sorry our anniversary was ruined.”

Newt shakes his head. “Dude, it’s not your fault. We can do something this weekend.”

“I suppose, but I had the whole day planned out for us, and—” Hermann sighs. “Well, in any case, I want to give this to you now.” He takes a small wrapped box from his pocket and hands it to Newt.

“Aww man, I’m so unprepared. I left your gift in my room.” Newt tears the bright blue wrapping from the box and pries it open. Inside is a pair of ivory-colored cufflinks.

“Oh...hey,” he says, awkwardly.

“I know you don’t own any,” Hermann teases. “Those are carved from kaiju bone. They’re made by an artist in Korea, and are one of only ten pairs in existence.”

Newt knows all this—he pre-ordered them months ago.

“These are awesome,” he says, putting on a big smile and trying not to think about his own pair, nestled in his sock drawer at home. “Wow, this is bone?”

“Yes—from Atticon, I believe.”

“Sweet.” Newt must not have been very convincing, because Hermann’s smile falters. Newt wraps both arms around Hermann’s neck and kisses him. “Seriously,” he says. “Thank you.”

There’s a loud cheer down the hall.

“We should go back,” Hermann murmurs. He runs a hand through Newt’s hair. “I hope we’ll at least get to bed at a reasonable hour. Will you stay with me tonight?”

Newt smiles. “Sure thing.” He gives Hermann one last squeeze, then follows him back to LOCCENT. “Hey, can you hold onto these? They won’t fit in my pocket.”

Hermann smirks as Newt hands him the cufflinks. “No, I don’t suppose they will,” he says, eyeing Newt’s pants. “And I wouldn’t want you to lose them, like you did the last.”

Newt rolls his eyes. Although, now that he thinks about it, maybe it’s a good thing Hermann got him a second pair.

 ---

 

**Five**

 

Newt is sent to Russia in December. The jaeger program has lost funding, and that means the Vladivostok Shatterdome, as well as L.A. and Sydney, will be shut down. Any samples that Newt deems necessary to keep will be sent with him to Hong Kong, so he’s been instructed to take what he wants before the rest is sold off.

Newt hadn’t been looking forward to being away from Hermann, but it turns out it isn’t so bad. They text during the day and Skype every night, and between this and the excitement of being in Vladivostok’s K-Sci labs, Newt is left pretty satisfied.

“Dude, you should see some of the stuff they have!” he says over a vidchat one night. “I wish the interns were coming to Hong Kong. Thuy would freak over seeing such a big chunk of brain.”

“I’ll miss them,” Hermann says. “But we’ve been downsized quite a bit. There’s barely room enough for the two of us.”

“Yeah, well I’m taking the brain, so I don’t know if you’ll have room for your chalkboards. You might have to use a slate or something.”

Hermann rolls his eyes. “Perhaps the marshal will move you outside where you belong.”

“Please. You’d miss me.”

“God help me, I would.”

Newt smiles and stares at the grainy image of Hermann’s face. Hermann is sitting at his desk in his quarters. He’s started packing for the move, so his room is beginning to look a little more empty.

“Man, I miss touching you,” Newt says. “Not even in a sexy way—I just miss having you in bed next to me.”

Hermann’s eyes soften. “It’s only for a little while longer," he says. "Three days left, correct?”

“Well, not anymore, with L.A. and all.”

“L.A.?” Hermann frowns.

“Yeah, didn’t I—I _did_ tell you about this, right?” Newt picks up his phone and scrolls through his texts, but all he can find is a lot of gushing about lab equipment and a few teasing sexts that Hermann had sent while he was particularly horny and couldn’t sleep.

“Hey, remember that time you sexted me at 2am and when I woke up, I had like ten different messages about your—”

“Newton. What do you mean _L.A.?_ ”

Hermann looks a little concerned—more concerned than Newt had expected.

“Uh—a couple of people here were transferred from the L.A. Shatterdome and they’re heading home to California tomorrow, so I figured I’d tag along and they said they could get me in and maybe I can nab a few things for—”

“You’re going to California?!”

“Yeah? I’m not gonna be—wow, did you really miss me that much?”

“Newton, I sent you a letter.”

Newt grins. “ A love letter?”

“What? No. Well—” Hermann sighs. “It was important; I had a question to ask. And now it probably won’t arrive before you leave.”

“Well, then ask your question now.”

“But the gesture is ruined.”

Newt snorts. He can’t quite tell which Hermann is more obsessed with—perfectionism or showmanship.

“When did you mail the letter?” he asks.

“Monday.”

“Okay, well you’re right—it’s not gonna arrive in time. Just ask me now. It’s now or never.”

Hermann looks away from the computer and purses his lips. “I just wanted to know—since we’ll have to fill out housing applications again, I was wondering if we might make it a little easier on ourselves and just—perhaps apply for one double room as opposed to two single rooms.”

Newt stares at his laptop in silence. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

Hermann blushes—Newt can tell despite the shitty lighting in his room. “Yes, I suppose that’s what I’m asking.”

Newt breaks out into a huge smile. He wriggles in his chair, trying hard to contain the burst of joyful energy that rushes through him.

“Yeah!” he laughs. “Yeah, totally! Please! Do you have the application?”

“I downloaded it, yes.” Hermann looks relieved. He’s trying to bite back a smile, but it shines through, anyway. “I haven't filled it out, because I didn’t want to be too forward.”

“Dude, fill it out! Send it in!”

“I—alright, then.”

For a moment, they just sit there and smile at each other. Newt wants to reach through the computer and kiss Hermann on his dumb mouth, but obviously, he can’t. He’s never felt their separation as strongly and painfully as he does right now.

“I’m still going to get you your letter,” Hermann says.

“What?”

“The letter I sent. I’ll call Vladivostok after you leave and see if it can be forwarded. How long will you be in California?”

“Uh, no idea, dude.”

“Well—perhaps I can arrange for express delivery.”

“For a letter? Is it really—”

“It’s an important letter, Newton.” Hermann frowns. “And, besides—” He clears his throat. “There were things written of a somewhat _personal_ nature that I would rather not have other people reading.”

Newt raises an eyebrow. “Did you write me a sex letter?”

“Contact me tomorrow and tell me whether or not you’ve received it.”

“Yeah, sure thing, roomie.”

Hermann rolls his eyes.

 

\---

 

The letter doesn’t arrive the next day. Newt texts Hermann to let him know, then leaves for L.A., where he forgets all about the letter until the last day of his stay, when it’s delivered to him in a plastic Ziploc bag, torn to shreds.

“Oh shit,” he mutters.

Newt takes the letter back to his quarters. He peels a “sorry our machines fucked up your mail” sticker from the bag, then opens it and scatters the scraps of paper onto his desk.

“Okay, well maybe I can make it into a puzzle,” he says.

Newt kind of hates puzzles.

After ten minutes of careful organization, the pieces big enough to be read are separated into chunks on his desk.

 

_you dearly. I can’t express how_   
_without you isn’t worth my breath_

 

_most important person in my life. I’ve never_

 

_about you. The way your skin_   
_tattoos, but clearly I was_   
_never cared for the word ‘sexy,’ but_

 

_miss you. Every day without you_   
_live with me? I long to wake up next to_

 

It’s clear that there are pieces of letter missing from the bag. Newt runs his fingers over the torn scraps in front of him.

“What a sappy nerd.”

He doesn’t know what he’s going to say to Hermann. Would it be better to pretend the letter never arrived, or to say that it did arrive, but it was in so many pieces that it was nearly impossible to read? Newt bites his lip. Either way, Hermann’s not going to be happy.

 ---

 

**One**

 

They drift.

They drift and it’s amazing and terrifying and so different from the first time. Drifting with a human is warmth, emotion, vitality. Newt can see what Hermann sees, feel what Hermann feels. He watches Hermann’s childhood and adolescence. He sees himself through Hermann’s eyes.

Newt watches as Hermann saves Newt’s picture to a hidden folder on his desktop. He feels Hermann’s excitement and admiration as he lies in bed reading Newt’s letters. Time fast-forwards—they meet, and it’s a disaster. Hermann aches with disappointment. They’re reunited, and Hermann is scared, but his trepidation harbors hope.

Hermann’s memories start coming too fast. Newt is dizzy watching them, but he can’t look away. He sees the start of their relationship—the nervousness of careful flirtation, immense joy when Newt makes a move. Time seems to stand still when they kiss. Newt sees Hermann picking out songs for a playlist, selecting rare tropical flowers for immediate delivery, reading Yelp reviews to find the best French restaurant in the city. He sees Hermann sitting at his desk in his room alone, handwriting a letter even though his arm aches from being at the blackboard all day.

He sees a memory he doesn’t recognize: Hermann stepping into a jewelry store and speaking to a jeweler about engagement rings.

The kaiju brain takes over and everything becomes fear and darkness. He sees the breach and the flaw in their plan, and there’s so much to take in that he can hardly collect his thoughts for long enough to feel completely human.

The drift ends. Hermann vomits into a toilet.

 

\---

 

They’re on the helicopter back to the Shatterdome. Despite the danger and the kaiju, all Newt can think about is that engagement ring. Hermann keeps it in his left jacket pocket.

“Hey, so the drift—” Newt says. “That was a trip.”

Hermann is sitting across from him, their knees pressed together in the narrow space. He had been staring out the window, but now he turns, searching Newt’s face as if looking for something.

“See anything good?” Newt teases.

Hermann glances at a security officer sitting five feet away.

“You mean besides the fact that you abhor my taste in music?”

Newt snorts, and Hermann looks offended.

“Okay no, I don’t _abhor_ your taste in music. Man, differences of opinion are what make the world go ‘round, okay?”

“At least you told me about being allergic to the flowers I sent you—”

“Well it would've been pretty hard to hide—”

“But you could have mentioned that you already owned the cufflinks!”

“Oh. Well, I didn’t wanna—it’s the thought that—”

“And the letter! I can’t believe the letter arrived in pieces. Does the U.S. Postal Service have _any_ standards of quality?”

Newt glances back at the security officer, who is now staring hard out the window, probably wondering the chances of survival, should they jump.

“You told me you never received it,” Hermann says, sounding wounded.

“That’s because I knew you’d get upset!”

“Of course I’m upset! It seems like every gesture I make is destined to be ruined!”

Newt doesn’t know what to say. He looks out the window, then looks down at the floor, then he must have really lost his mind because without even meaning to, he glances at Hermann’s left jacket pocket.

Hermann blanches. “You saw.”

Newt curses himself.

“Even this,” Hermann murmurs. “I can’t even make _this_ perfect.”

Newt shakes his head. “No, dude, what are you saying?” He leans forward and grabs Hermann’s hands, but Hermann refuses to make eye contact. He stares down at the city, and Newt’s stomach drops when he notices Hermann’s eyes getting a little misty.

“Hermann,” Newt says. “Listen to me. You think this is ruined, but it’s not. It’s so totally not. All that stuff you did—it wasn’t romantic because it was a mix tape and flowers and cuff links and shit, it was romantic because you put thought into it and you did it for me, and—listen!” Hermann won’t meet his eyes, so Newt puts a hand on his cheek and turns Hermann’s face from the window. He moves forward until he’s sitting on the edge of his seat, as close to Hermann as he can get without being directly in his lap.

“Hermann. Propose to me now.” The security guard makes a little squeaking noise, but Newt ignores it. “ _Please_ do it now. This is the most romantic moment of my life. I’ve been in your head, you’ve been in mine—I’ve never felt closer to anyone. We’re in a helicopter miles above the city, and when I look out the window, all I can see are glittering lights down below and glittering stars up above. We’re about to save the fucking world, and if we don’t save it, we’re gonna die, and I don’t wanna die without being engaged to you, so just fuck whatever plans you had before and _please_ propose to me now!”

Hermann looks a little stunned. Truth be told, Newt is a little stunned too.

“I—um—” Hermann glances towards the security guard. Newt squeezes his hand.

“Don’t look at them, look at me.”

Hermann pulls a small black box out of his pocket and leans forward. Newt’s heart is beating a mile a minute. They’re almost at the Shatterdome—he can see it in the distance, but all he cares about right now are the words that are about to come out of Hermann’s mouth. Hermann opens the box.

“Newton,” he murmurs. “Will you marry me?”

Newt kisses him. The guard applauds.

 

\---

 

Newt helps save the world while wearing an engagement ring on his finger. At the impromptu afterparty, he keeps his right arm tight around Hermann while he waves the left in the face of anyone who will stand still for long enough.

“Yeah, Hermann and I are getting married,” he says, as Hermann rolls his eyes beside him. “He proposed to me in a helicopter over the city before we saved the entire human race. He ordered this ring special, you know. See the scale print on the sides?”

He drags Hermann around the room, referring to him repeatedly as “my fiancée,” and showing off to everyone he knows, and even some people he doesn’t. Hermann follows willingly, but after about forty-five minutes, he leans down to whisper into Newt’s ear.

“We’ve been awake for nearly a full day,” he says. “Don’t you think we ought to get back to our room?”

Newt pouts a little because where’s the fun in _that_ when there’s still dozens of people who haven’t heard about their helicopter engagement? But then Hermann kisses Newt’s temple, and the arm around Newt’s waist slips a little low, and before Newt can process it, Hermann has just squeezed his ass in the middle of a very crowded public hallway.

“Hey, you know what?” Newt squeaks. “You’re totally right.”

Hermann steers Newt away and they head towards the residence halls.

“You should have told me you like your arse to be touched,” Hermann murmurs. “I can’t believe I had to learn that through the drift.”

Newt shrugs. “Well, I mean—wait, what else did you learn through the drift?”

Hermann doesn’t answer, just smirks.

 ---


End file.
